Right from the Gecko (8 page)

What happened the last time Nick and I were here wasn't Hawaii's fault. Nick's either. It was
me
that was the problem. The moment I found out the reason Nick had become flustered and tongue-tied wasn't that he was about to confess he'd lost his credit card or left the snorkeling gear at the beach or some other similarly harmless catastrophe, I was swamped with a wave of anxiety unlike any I'd ever experienced before. And that included the time I'd held a sealed envelope from the Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine in my hands, knowing that opening it would tell me whether or not I was about to embark on my lifelong dream of becoming a veterinarian. By comparison, that experience was the proverbial piece of cake.

As I stared at the engagement ring Nick had whipped out of his pocket, as red-faced as if he'd spent the entire day in the sun without wearing any sunblock, an intense rushing noise rose up inside my head. It felt as if I'd just leaped into twenty feet of turbulent ocean waves. The whole beach started to spin—really, really fast—and I felt as if the soft white beach had turned into quicksand that was greedily sucking me downward.

Even the hopeful look on Nick's face and the bright anticipation in his hazel eyes hadn't been enough to bring me back.

Getting my mouth to work had been an iffy proposition. But somehow, for better or for worse, I'd managed to do it.

“I—I'm sorry, Nick,” I muttered. “I can't do this.” I stood up and began running blindly, so desperate to get away that I didn't even look back to see the expression on his face.

Not exactly my finest moment.

The trip had gone downhill from there. Fortunately, we had only two days left. Nick spent most of the remaining hours snorkeling—alone—while I took long walks on the beach—also alone—or wandered around shops and pretended I was actually looking at the coral necklaces and splashy aloha shirts instead of berating myself for being such a commitmentphobe. Of course, part of me was also congratulating myself on having escaped giving up my independence.

The two of us had flown home in silence, sitting side by side and making only the minimum of polite conversation. The fact that our relationship was over was understood. When we got back home, we divided up the CDs and all the other possessions we'd acquired as a couple, agreeing that Nick would keep Leilani, the Jackson's chameleon we'd shanghaied and brought home from Maui in a sock.

And then we'd gone our separate ways.

My heart sank when I reached the hotel pool area and saw that the Polynesian dance show was already under way. A small, low stage was set up at one end, with the blue-green Pacific Ocean and orange-streaked sky of the Maui sunset serving as a backdrop. Five middle-aged men wearing matching aloha shirts and playing ukuleles, Hawaiian guitars, and drums stood off to one side.

But the focus was the dancers. Three angry-looking Maori—or else some local men who'd taken a few dance lessons and were unusually good sports—were stamping their feet and grunting furiously as they did a sort of war dance. At least, that was what I assumed it was. I couldn't imagine painting one's face with all those elaborate designs for anything short of a bloody, no-holds-barred battle.

The entire seating area was packed solid. Hundreds of plastic chairs were crammed around the pool, and each and every one appeared to be occupied by a tourist juggling a digital camera and a plastic cup containing a brightly colored beverage. Some of them sat so close to the edge of the pool that I desperately hoped a couple of those Maori warriors had some life-saving training—especially since it looked as if all the regular lifeguards had gone home for the day.

I was agonizing over how I'd ever find Nick in this crowd when I noticed a bunch of orange parrots and hot pink hibiscus in the front row, over by the diving board. It took me only a moment to realize that wasn't just any jungle scene. It was Nick's chest.

I hurried over, crouching down as I wove among the seats in an attempt to minimize my obstruction of the angry-yet-agile performers.

“Nick?” I called in a hoarse whisper.

As he glanced up, I braced myself for a tirade. Instead, he simply cast me a look that was somewhere between scathing and woeful. Frankly, I would have preferred the tirade.

I sank into the seat that he'd graciously saved for me, no doubt having to fight off hordes of tourists at least as angry as those Maori on stage.

“I'm sorry,” I told him. “I lost track of the time—”

“This is yours,” he grumbled, handing me a plastic cup. In it was a watered-down mai tai, at least if its pale color was any indication. “I saved it for you. Why don't we just watch the show?”

“Good idea.”

I glanced at the stage and saw that the Maori were gone. Instead, two large, muscular hunks wearing nothing but loincloths and excellent tans were twirling flaming batons. I had to admit, they put those Miss America contestants to shame. Drums pounded with such a powerful, primitive beat that I hoped they weren't getting ready to sacrifice somebody.

I watched in silence, meanwhile gulping down half my mai tai. I was determined to show Nick what a party girl I could be once I set my mind to it. At first, I was pretty tense. Not only was Nick emitting anger rays; watching two young men toss around incendiary devices without any extinguishers in sight was a bit unnerving.

But slowly but surely I could feel myself relaxing. Maybe it was the exquisite sunset, maybe it was the balmy air…or maybe it was just the rum in my watery mai tai kicking in. At any rate, I whooped and hollered with the best of them when the emcee, a pretty, dark-haired woman wearing a traditional hula costume, commanded, “Give it up for the Samoan fire dancers!”

“Not bad,” I commented, leaning over to Nick. “I wonder if you could do that.”

His response was to mutter, “This was supposed to be a chance for us to do something really fun together. But you couldn't even get here on time. I didn't even know if you were going to make it.”

So much for aloha spirit. “I'm here now,” I offered feebly.

“Right. But between working on my third mai tai and suffering from severe jet lag, I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

“Maybe we can get you some coffee.”

I scanned the pool area desperately, wondering if all the waiters had carpooled home with the lifeguards. At the moment, it looked as if the only hotel staff members who hadn't punched out for the day were the gy-rating, half-dressed members of the Polynesian dance troupe.

“Thanks, I'm all right,” Nick insisted, not sounding all right at all.

I'd always believed that nobody was supposed to have a bad time in paradise. But it seemed like it was all I ever managed to do.

Before I had a chance to ask myself what else could possibly go wrong, I noticed that the emcee in the grass skirt was weaving through the aisles, heading straight in our direction with a fierce look of determination in her brown eyes.

Run!
a little voice inside my head commanded. But I was stuck to my chair—no doubt the result of either my horror over what was about to happen or that devil rum hidden amid the melted ice cubes.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let's give this happy couple a big round of applause as they join us up on stage!” the hula dancer cried loudly enough for all to hear. Apparently she had a microphone tucked away in her coconut bra.

“Um, no, thank you,” I told her. “We're not much for—”

“Where are you two from?”

I had no idea hula dancers could be so pushy. “No, really,” I insisted amid the loud clapping that erupted all around me. “We're not the ones you want.”

“Don't tell me, the East Coast, right?” our Polynesian princess continued. “I can tell because you're both so pale. I'm thinking New York, Philadelphia, Boston…someplace where there's lots of snow.”

“Uh, New York,” I croaked. “Outside of New York. Long Island.”

“Welcome! But you're not in the Big Apple anymore. It's time for you both to experience a little Polynesian-style fun.”

Frantically I glanced over at Nick. As I'd expected, he had the same deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face that I was certain was on mine. But even he was no match for the dark-haired waif wearing someone else's lawn around her hips. Before you could say “pupu platter,” she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the stage.

I had no choice but to follow.

On stage, I stood frozen, staring out at the audience and blinking. The Marine-drill-sergeant-turned-hula-dancer hadn't even put our leis on yet, and I was already overwhelmed by the tiki torches, the pounding drums, and the sea of faces I could see gaping at me through my mai tai–induced fog. By this point, I really hoped human sacrifice wasn't on the program.

“I'm Lokelani,” she chirped into her bra. “And you are…?”

“Jessie,” I replied, doing my best to smile.

“And who's your handsome friend?”

“Nick,” he grunted.

“Great!” Draping a lei over each of us, she added, “Welcome, Jessie and Nick, and thanks for volunteering.”

“We didn't exactly—”

Before I could finish that thought, Lokelani exclaimed, “You two are going to demonstrate to our audience how easy it is to learn the hula!”

“I don't think we're the best people for the job,” Nick protested.

“You see, we have no actual Polynesian dance experience,” I added lamely.

But I knew I was wasting my breath. We were already part of the show. There was no turning back now.

Besides, Lokelani had put her hands on Nick's hips and was grinding them back and forth in a swaying motion.

“Now bend your knees and move in time to the music,” she instructed. “There you go! You're a natural!”

“You're doing great, Nick,” I added encouragingly as I copied his movements.

“Our first vacation in years,” he whispered loudly, “a romantic getaway in paradise, and you have to spoil it by throwing yourself into the investigation of the murder of somebody you barely knew!”

“Now raise your arms and move them like the graceful leaves of a palm tree!” Lokelani cried.

“It's not as if I planned any of this!” I whispered back. Fortunately, the music was loud enough that no one in the audience could hear us.

“Now move your feet,” Lokelani instructed. “And pretend your fingers are drops of rain…. Go for it, you two! You're doing great!”

“You can't let it go, just this once?” Nick persisted, talking through clenched teeth even as he moved his arms like the graceful leaves of a palm tree.

“A young woman has been murdered!” I countered, turning around slowly and making fluttering movements with my fingers. “And her murderer thinks I have something he wants! Do you really expect me to ignore all that?”

“Yes! That's exactly what I expect!” he shot back. “Because even though I try to be supportive, I think this time you've got some serious delusions about your role in this whole—”

“Keep those feet moving!” Lokelani interrupted. “Now you two face each other…. You're both doing a terrific job!”

“Then you're just not getting it!” I told Nick as we stood eye to eye, our hips swaying and our fingers fluttering. “Not to mention the fact that you're cold and heartless!”

“What I am is somebody who's supposed to be enjoying a relaxing and well-deserved vacation!”

“Come on, you two!” Lokelani urged. “Put a little more sway into those hips!”

“Maybe you can stand by without doing anything,” I whispered impatiently, “but I can't.”

“Then don't expect me to sit around and wait for you while you're off indulging your Nancy Drew fantasies,” Nick returned. “I plan to have fun while I'm in Hawaii!”

“Don't let me stop you.”

“Believe me, I won't!”

“All
right
!” Lokelani exclaimed happily. “Great job, you two! Let's have one more round of applause for Jessie and Nick!”

I glared at him. He glowered back.

“And because the two of you were such good sports,” Lokelani continued with just as much enthusiasm, “here are four free tickets to the Royal Banyan Hotel's luau, any night you choose.
Mahalo,
and enjoy your stay!”

How could we not? I thought grimly, aware that this Hawaiian vacation of ours was starting to feel an awful lot like instant replay.

As Nick and I shuffled back to our seats, everybody else in the audience applauded loudly. A few let out yelps of appreciation. No doubt they were all demonstrating how grateful they were that
they
weren't the ones who'd been dragged up on stage and publicly humiliated.

Once we sat down, our fifteen minutes of fame already old news, I turned to him and said, “At least we got free tickets to a luau. We can even go twice.”

Nick just grunted, his way of signifying that he'd heard what I'd said but had absolutely no intention of responding to it.